


tú sí sabes quererme

by aMassiveDisappointment (BadOldWest)



Series: tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Aristocracy, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Hate Sex, Jealousy, Sexual Tension, Smut, dom!cassian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/aMassiveDisappointment
Summary: “There,” he says, more crisply than needed. He pats her shoulder in the companionable way he does when they’re in front of other people, pretending they chose this life. “Now you’re perfect.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> anon request: "Rebelcaptain arranged marriage would be nice"

She slithers into his room, like she always does. Bare stocking feet, half-in, half-out of a sleek silk dress. Dark blue, an immersive kind of opacity that hugs her body, color dense as the night sky.

“Zip me up?” she says with a reserved smile, turning her back to him, arms dropping their pose from behind her like _she had just, oh, been trying, didn’t want to bother you,_ as she padded across the hall on his room. The exposed flesh of her back makes an arrowhead white shape where the zipper has yet to be united. The contrast is stark, mesmerizing, and he watches it vanish as he tugs at the zipper.

He misses the pale white as the dress knits itself up over her spine. Her breath flutters as the dress sheaths her body.

She always does this. The “accidental exhibitionism”, less convincingly accidental with every bared inch. Allowing him into her room when she was dressing or undressing, sitting feet away from the garments she had shed or had yet to don, pretending she hadn’t been lying around in lingerie, pretending not to hear him calling until he was just outside her door, furious for her absence. Especially like this, every night as they dress for dinner, in separate rooms, she pads down the hall, hair and makeup perfectly applied, looking ready and polished and falling out of a unzipped dress.

He remembers their wedding night, the words he regretted every day;

“I don’t have to touch you. We don’t have to.”

Her green eyes glinted, for the first time she broke from her cloudy-eyed, slightly dumb expression. As his fiance, she posed no threat to him, agreeable and unchallenging. To take his title and name and nothing more. He knew nothing about her than his parent’s insistence that her ties to various dignitaries would serve him well, and as Krennic’s ward, he’d have deeper access to his secrets.

“Help us win this war,” Draven had insisted, his voice low and uncompromising, “marry the girl.”

She had looked “perfectly happy” all day, bridal. Vacuous and without bite. She sat on his bed on the wedding night, a silk robe pulled around her body and her hair taken down, in loose waves tucked over one shoulder. Those eyes, with slightly smeared eyeliner and dark lashes, red lips darker in the half-illuminated bridal suite, were not the eyes of the girl pushed at him, but one he could see himself in a darkened room with. When the words left his mouth, he almost regretted them.

“Thank god,” she said, pulling him into her space for a kiss on the cheek so dry and sexless he felt he’d married an 80 year old woman. “Goodnight, darling,” she said, with an edge of sarcasm, slipping out of his room without a sound.

He stands behind her, at his mirror, his face almost buried in her hair’s elegant chignon. Her dress is snugly on. He can smell her perfume, blooming like a fever on his senses. He’s so busy staring at her pale neck that he doesn’t notice her eyes in the mirror, intent on his face. He drags his thumb over the nape of her neck, just once, and she breathes shallowly until it withdraws. Her eyes are faraway in the mirror, dreamy.

“There,” he says, more crisply than needed. He pats her shoulder in the companionable way he does when they’re in front of other people, pretending they chose this life. “Now you’re perfect.”

She turns in front of him, her ass pressed against the table vanity as her body twists to face her husband. Her fingers find a loosened strand of his forelock, falling into his eyes. She twists it around her finger, pulling just enough that there’s tension at his scalp for only a moment, before tucking it back, out of sight, with the orderly style of his hair.

“There,” she replies, and that’s all she says before she slips away from him again.


	2. Chapter 2

“Unzip me?”

Jyn arranged herself, her back facing him, arms grasping for a tiny metal hook at the base of her neck, raised on the toes of her bare feet as though that would help her reach it. She tipped a bit, catching herself by flattening one foot to the floor, rocking one hip to counter the sway.

Cassian tried to quiet his angered breath. He’d barely had five minutes alone, after _that dinner,_ and she was slipping back through his door with a light little request to bare her skin to him again.

He walked up to his wife, unclipped her with precise fingers, dropping the zip with a firm pull.

She tilted her head back and moaned, her shoulders rolling under her skin in a relaxed, happy way.

“You were enjoying yourself with Han Solo,” he grumbled, staring at the pale shell of her ear. A flush, he assumed from all the wine, was forming on her cheek. She turned her head to address the mirror instead of him, and he looked at her reflection. It seemed that turning would drive their bodies apart, or bring them close. She locked him where he stood. She smiled when his eyes dipped to her bare shoulder. She could feel him breathing, and goosebumps were forming on the soft-looking skin.

“I was making the princess’s guest feel welcome,” Jyn said with a demure smile, looking like the bride he unveiled on his wedding day.

“Princess Leia did not seem to appreciate how friendly you were with _her_ guest.”

Jyn gathered the neckline of her dress, which had loosened, in both hands and held it upright on her sternum. It was a prim move, even for her practiced act, and she could tell he wanted to yank the dress out of her hands and let it pool on the floor of his room.

“It got her to take him home, probably to show him that how much he was hers…”

Cassian did not find it funny, just like he and the princess did not find Jyn and Han’s near constant touches -arms, shoulders, hands- and the dinner table all evening, laughing, building off each other in a natural wit and shared sarcasm. Jyn once looked at him, knowingly, over the rim of her wineglass, and he nearly cracked his plate with a steak knife her was using to saw through his food. He’d married a minx. 

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders, bringing his body close to hers. Her eyes flickered in the mirror, but he wasn’t looking back. He stared at her neck, the wilting curls in her hair.

“You’re _my_ wife,” Cassian dipped close to her ear, “and the one thing I require from my wife is loyalty, because it is offered from me without question.”

She turned, flinging a wine-limp arm over his shoulder. She got very slinky and loose after a few glasses. “Well that’s not very fair, _darling,_ to keep a wife that you don’t touch. It bores me to have a husband who is so cold about attending to my needs. I’m only human.”

His hands went up to her waist, shifting his fingers to adjust his grip. Tight. Possessive. Warning.

Jyn shrugged lightly, bring her other arm to drape over his shoulders. She pressed her chest against his, holding the dress _just barely_ in place.

“Do you really want me, Jyn,” he was holding back so much in that restrained voice. Her eyes flashed like falling stars, “because that is the only way we’re doing this.”

She swallowed, adjusting her hold so she shifted closer. Her hair was down, coiled down her shoulders, her eyeliner mussed in a blended shade around her eyes and her lipstick only the merest stain left after many pulls from her wineglass. He’d gotten to know her very high tolerance over the past few months, she seemed to unlock a particularly malicious cleverness after the number she’d had tonight. And that number by no means made her off her game.

“Is that a threat?”

His hands dipped to her lower back, slipping under the parted back of her dress to bare skin. She shivered.

“I need to know you want me, and not Han Solo. Just me.”

A casual hand returned to her own head, fluffing the hair off her neck as she seemed to think through his question.

“I feel like one of those cursed wishes came true…” she mused, reaching back to him tangling her hands in his hair. Messing up that precise, neat effort she made to tidy it before dinner, “I wished someday to have a handsome husband, but now I have him and he won’t make love to me.”

“You don’t strike me as being the little girl who wished for a husband.”

Her eyes flickered, pleased. “You’ve been paying closer attention than I thought.”

To punctuate, she stepped back. The dress fell.

He tried not to point out that was a pretty obvious attempt at distraction, but she’d probably slap him. That and it was kind of working.

His hands landed on her throat. Not squeezing, just rubbing a thumb up and down possessively.

“I’m still wondering what I wished for to get you as a curse.”

She laughed heartily, her toes digging into the carpet as she dropped back to stand flat-footed. Her hips shifted as her weight redistributed.

If she kept wearing lingerie like that, he really did want to start some kind of honor system where she at least modeled some of her purchases if he was paying for them.

He grabbed her by the hips, bringing her close.

“Your husband is going to kiss you, Jyn.”

“About time,” she murmured, rising back onto her toes. His mouth wasn’t rough or overwhelming, at least not at first. He kissed like the movies, silver screen projections of poreless skin and mouths that didn’t want to part. He kissed not at all like the part he was playing all these months. Retrained and sexlessly affectionate. But his current kiss was fluid, moving, his lips pulsing in a tide of ebb and flow against hers. Pulling, sucking one lip into his mouth, then dipping his tongue to stroke hers. Teases.

Jyn moaned against her husband’s kiss. Hungry for it.

He pulled away all too quickly, her breath releasing in from a gaping pink mouth in soft pants.

“You can have more when you show me how to behave.”

“No,” Jyn growled, pulling him close, “I’ve waited long enough.”

_“No._ Go back to your room and think about your husband. Only your husband. If you’re good, maybe he’ll touch you.”

Jyn tightened her grip on his arms, a hellfire rising in her eyes. He loved the fragile rage there, the single brush of his finger on her skin would make in crack into a fluid pleasure. She was going to make him pay for this.

She’d just have to wait until he was done with his turn doing the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same story, just with more italics. Sorry if this is familiar, trying to organize my life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I just wrote smut?
> 
> The next two chapters will be based on summersrage's request: 
> 
> "Jyn being a sub to Cassian.
> 
> I'm a sucker for a weaker Jyn ONLY because the character is so strong and is less likely to share her feelings then Cassian. It's interesting playing around with strong characters and finding what makes them break. And they hurt soooo pretty. I'm a terrible person. End rant."
> 
> Have fun kids.

Jyn was wondering what it was she could  _ do _ to get him to take her. She’d tried everything. Flirting with Han over dinner, coming up behind Cassian when he was reading to touch his shoulders and ask questions, shimmying the zipper of her dress back up or down the minute her maid left the room, only to slither into Cassian’s room to have him fix it, presenting her exposed spine in front of him, begging for his hands. 

Cassian didn’t do anything in response to her actions. 

She thought about bringing the subject to the light of day, which hadn’t been done before. Their private sphere was the rare time honesty dictated their words, even if it was a meager as a flirtation, or as obvious as a knowing look about the life they didn’t choose. 

She primly spread jam across her toast, the blue dining room feeling like this fishtank display of staid married life. She felt mildly smothered there, from the other side of the long table.

She was good at playing the part, when she had another, private life. And she was getting bored of being the demure wife without anything to sink her teeth into. 

“Aren’t you supposed to want an heir? Funny way to go about it.”

It was an abrupt topic, especially since it was the first time either of them spoke the whole morning. 

Cassian set down his newspaper with a stern brow, looking more that part of the husband she had expected to have. Not this confusing one she did; who made sure to ask what foods she liked and advised her what parts of the property she should explore on horseback and gave thoughtful gifts and was nothing but charming to her in polite company. 

“I’d rather us be childless the full length of our lives and get along than have you hate me for forcing you to have a child you didn’t want.”

She took a delicate bite, smiling in a trite manner as she chewed. 

“Well thank you for that, my darling.”

She dropped her napkin on her empty plate, rising from the table. 

“I think I might go for a ride today.”

“It’s going to rain,” he advised, not looking up from the paper. She patted his shoulder, kissing his stubbly cheek. 

“I’ll sneak one in before it pours,” she said lightly.

“Of course,” he replied, but seemed a bit annoyed that she was choosing to ignore his advice.

She decided to prod at him further. 

“Do you object to marital activities even when they don’t end with pregnancy?”

She lifted herself only enough to be able to look upon him with a sly smile. 

He glanced up at her, barely moving. It was an intense gaze one that almost startled her away from her game. 

“Certainly not, Mrs. Andor.”

Her title was  _ Lady Andor, _ and he knew that, but it was a bit more possessive and less formal, which is what made it tingle in her brain in an exciting way. 

She smiled serenely, waving off the butler as she herself refilled Cassian’s cup of coffee. She could say nearly anything in front of the staff, and would, just to prove a point. She would be shocked if they didn’t know already that the marriage was dull and unconsummated. 

She placed her hands on the back of his chair, leaning close to kiss him on the lips. 

“Careful, or you’ll be at risk for spoiling me,” she said, an edge to her voice. 

Cassian glanced over his shoulder as Jyn trotted off to get some fresh air. She smiled to herself. 

Dull and unconsummated for only so long. 

 

Jyn was back inside, drenched with rain. Her arrival was noted by all in the house by the slamming of doors and heavy feet on stairwells. 

She didn’t know why she was angry at Cassian, but she was. The meditative calm of her daily routine had been interrupted halfway through by a quaking storm, and being caught in it only proved him right and her wrong. Which made him have wronged  _ her, _ somehow.

There was something energizing, thrilling really, to have to race her horse back to the house in the rain. She’d felt slight unhinged from the restricted person she’d had to be. She surged through the house, high on the feeling, unable to shake how it powered her legs. 

She turned to a cowering maid in the upstairs hallway, teeth clenched. 

“Where is my husband?”

“H-he’s in his private study, Madame.”

She tossed her dripping hair out of her face, storming off as the girl rushed to find a towel to track Jyn around the house, mopping up after her. 

She knocked on the door to Cassian’s study, not waiting for him to answer because it was  _ her house too.  _ She didn’t need his permission.

Her eyes were more curious than outraged when she opened the door. She’d never been in this room. She hadn’t found a good enough excuse to get herself in there yet. It was distinctly Cassian. Orderly books and neat, sleek leather and muted browns and greens. 

He glanced up from his book, a nice September fire in the fireplace and looked like he’d had the right idea to stay in doors, which made her all the angrier. And his eyes were expectant. 

It was at this point Jyn realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. 

“You’re soaked,” he observed, even mustering it himself to sound concerned. She shook her head, teeth chattering, “Please put down that riding crop, you’re scaring me.”

It was still clenched in her fist. She hadn’t thought to put it down. No wonder the maid looked so terrified. 

She found her words, but only barely. 

_ “Is this it?” _

He furrowed his brow. 

“What do you mean? You should put something warm on.”

She soldiered on, noting her master of deflection husband, “Playing around like a dollhouse? Companions, like two old maids biding our time for the rest of our days?”

Cassian looked slightly stunned, standing to pull an extra blanket off the ottoman to drape around her shoulders. He extracted the riding crop from her hand gently, placing it on one of the tables. 

“Are you unhappy?” 

He sounded slightly panicked. 

She thumbed at the soft material of the blanket, lost for words. 

She was far from miserable. She’d survived so many worse households. She just felt...disappointed. She liked her clever, charming husband. She just wanted him to show some interest in her. Other than a...typically  _ male _ reaction to her bare skin.

“No,” she mumbled, her icy exterior cracked so swiftly by the first show of genuine concern. Well, this and when she’d fallen off her horse a few months ago, when he’d hovered and watched her bruises and scrapes get patched up. But she assumed that was more a panic that a dinner guest would assume he threw her down a flight of stairs or something. 

“Is this about the other night?” he put his hands on her elbows, “Do you need... _ what _ do you need?”

“I thought I was perfectly clear.”

Her teeth were clattering, but her eyes burned. 

Cassian stepped back, a tiny bit of fear in his eyes. “You were drunk. I didn’t… it wasn’t the right time to pursue that topic.”

She bit her lip, eyes furrowing curiously.

“Please,” he pushed on, “go get changed into something warm.”

He leaned close, brushing her wet hair out of her eyes. 

“You’re not letting us talk about it again.”

Something darkened in his eyes. Something wicked and wonderful. Jyn’s breath left her excitedly. 

“Clearly, we need to establish some rules, don’t we?”

He pulled away from her, going back to his chair. He sat comfortably, examining her from a distance. 

“How do you feel about separate bedrooms?”

Jyn was standing there, wrapped in a blanket, awed by the abrupt change in demeanor. She nodded when she remembered he expected an answer. 

“For now, I think it’s good for us to have private space.”

“You just want to invade mine every once in awhile,” he smiled wryly at her. She was picking up on a more natural sense of humor than that of just her husband, the model dinner host. 

“You can come to mine too,” she informed him, straightening out her stance. She belonged in this room. She would act like it. 

He nodded, folding his hands in front of him. 

“We can go to each other’s rooms when welcome? Our first official rule?”

She nodded, trying not to smile at his appeasing, inviting tone. 

“Now will you put some dry clothes on?”

She shook her head, her eyes steely and determined.

“What if you’re not welcome in my room anymore if you don’t?”

She bit her lower lip. He was trying to make her laugh. It was almost working. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to dry off that rain before you get sick. How about this,” he gestured at her. “Get out of those wet things, or you  _ have to _ leave.”

Jyn’s breath stopped for a minute. What a delicious proposition. She liked him ten times more for even suggesting it. 

“In our own rooms, how about we can make our own rules.”

He smiled, but it was more an exercise in showing her his teeth. “Then you can’t be in wet clothes in my room.”

She dropped the blanket, unveiling her shivering body. She’d left her riding jacket somewhere on the way to his room. She untucked her blouse out of her riding pants, toeing off her boots. His eyes were steady on her. 

“Do you want some help?”

“I want you to watch,” she shot back. He chuckled as she rid herself of her pants, left in a silk set he was immediately resentful its status of existing under her clothing until just then. 

She was still shivering, and he couldn’t watch it for much longer. 

“I have one more rule,” he said, “you have to kiss your husband before you leave his room. No matter how angry you are at him.”

She made a face. He gestured outward, “What? You can make rules I’ll find equally objectionable for your own room.”

She crossed her arms. “I should get going then.”

She was going to give him the dryest, worst kiss of his life just for that. 

His eyes sparked. She was actually thrilled to get to hear what must have popped into his head. 

“And because you didn’t listen to me about the rain, and went out anyway, and didn’t listen when I told you to get changed before you got sick; you have to do something for me.”

She grit her teeth. She’d wanted a nicer preface to having to suck his cock. 

“You will crawl over here, on your knees, to give me my kiss.”

Oh. She’d expected worse. Still, she set her jaw defiantly. 

“Or what?”

He shrugged, which angered her more. “Or leave. Play by the rules. Or go to your room, make up your own,” Cassian leaned forward, eyes softening. “We could go to your room. Put you in something warm. Then you could make up some rules.”

“I want yours,” she blurted out, her breath leaving her in short pants. 

“Then get on your knees, my love.”

She trembled as she lowered herself to her knees, flushing as she began to crawl. It occurred to her, after she started, that she would do this. She  _ wanted _ to do it. The fire warmed her shoulder the closer she grew to him. 

It was hard to look at him, her eyes stayed on the carpet as she closed the short distance. 

Her brow nearly grazed his knee. She didn’t want to look up yet. She felt so...good, but she didn’t want him to know what his arrogance was making her feel.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Her eyes flit up to his. He looked so enamored with her, it made her shoulders quake a little. 

“You can stand to kiss me, if you like.”

“Or…?”

Her face raised, eyes vulnerable. There was a distinct look in them.  _ Tell me something better.  _

He smiled at his, weaving his fingers in her wet hair. “Or you can do with me as you wish. But decide quickly, before you catch a chill.”

She stood, placing her hands on the arms of his chair. 

He stopped her, leaning forward smoothly. “But first…”

He slid off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She clutched it with one hand, because it did feel delightful warm. 

Jyn pulled herself onto his lap, straddling him, kissing him to vent all the frustration he’d made her feel into one perfect explosion. His hands were greedy on her, under the jacket, and after so long of gentle lower-back touches and cheek pecks she was melting against him. They felt so warm, only then did she realize her skin was ice cold. He hissed at the contact, crooning with concern as he buried her in his arms. 

“Why didn’t you put on some dry clothes before storming in here?”

She buried her face in his neck, he was so warm she wanted to absorb him into her skin. “I wanted you to know that I went out anyway…”

He nuzzled her ear, which was pink and very cold. “And why is that? Instead of hiding your defiance, you had to show me?”

“I don’t know. I just, wanted you to see it. To see your reaction.”

He smirked, kissing her dotingly for the confession. 

“I would never take you for the type who liked obeying,” he observed casually, smiling against her ear as she let out a soft whimper. 

“Who said...I liked  _ -uhn,” _

Within seconds he’d managed to tease her wetness from her, wicked hands dipping between her legs, and press his finger to her lips. Her taste. Undeniable now. She sucked hungrily, opening her eyes to look at his expression. 

So he did want her as badly as she’d wanted him. It was a game before. Teasing her handsome, respectable husband; the only man who didn’t want to touch her. But this, this was more than a bored fantasy. She actually felt lucky, in that moment, that he was hers already. 

“You can blame the rain, and I can scold you again,” he offered, his eyes nearly black. 

She clutched his hips with her rider’s thighs, greedy for his closeness. Her hands dug in his neat hair. He groaned, low in her ear.

“I just need the fresh air,” she admitted, the first time she felt the need to ever explain herself to him, “I need it to think. I need to get out sometimes.”

Cassian kissed at her collarbone, suddenly doting and gentle. “I know you do, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you getting sick.”

She loved being on his lap, wearing his jacket, listening to his soft words. Enough to let some of her control slip away. 

He smoothed his hand encouragingly up and down the back of her thigh. “And now I need to demand that you get dressed.”

She wilted, feeling a little cheated. He smiled sheepishly, kissing her lips, with a gentle thumb running along her jawline under her ear. 

“Tonight, I’ll come to your room, if I’m welcome?”

Her arms were still around his neck, she had to remind herself to let them go.

“And I’ll make some rules?” she murmured, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

He smiled, “whatever you want.”

She picked up the blanket, leaving her wet clothes on his floor for him to deal with. She wrapped it around her shoulders and padded across the hall to her room, waving off another concerned maid. Closing the door behind her, she still felt his presence filling her own, private space. It wasn’t unwelcome. 

It was just unfortunate how she wished she could go back to his room that night instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be ONE DRABBLE. And it keeps getting obnoxiously longer.


	4. Chapter 4

“How’s married life been treating you?”

  
Jyn nearly choked on her glass of wine. 

  
“Are you planning on stealing me away already, Han?”

  
She was the only one at the table that noticed her husband pausing mid-chew. His eyes slid to her, watching her body fidget, not her face. Leia was also not thrilled with the joke, taking a pointed bite of her salad. 

  
Solo’s face was smug. “That bad?”

  
Jyn shook her head, her serene mask on. “I don’t mind it.”

  
“That isn’t the best review, old sport,” Han wielded the nickname condescendingly. How false it was on his lips weighed heavily around the table. Even Jyn wrinkled her nose, pulling a sip from her glass. 

  
“Yes, Jyn, tell us about being married to Cassian,” Leia chimed in dryly. Cassian’s hand landed on her thigh, warning. Jyn raised her eyebrow, not so easily silenced. 

  
“He…works quite a lot. I get lonely when he works.”

  
Cassian’s face relaxed, and he shrugged. The shrug brought his hand higher. It fisted the silk material of her dress, drawing it up her thigh. Jyn shivered. 

  
“I’m sure leaving you wanting more of my attention isn’t the worst thing I could do.”

  
“Yes, Jyn, some men smother you,” Leia shot accusing eyes at Han. 

  
Jyn’s leg was bare, her skirt pooling around her hips. She couldn’t breathe. Cassian’s feather light touches edged above her stockings. He squeezed possessively, once.  
“I just worry sometimes, that he regrets his choice. We had such a brief courtship…”

  
None at all. They got shoved at each other. And the annoying thing was, he got less repulsive every passing day. 

  
Cassian gazed at her affectionately, like a loving husband. His fingers, under the table, were anything but the image of a wholesome marriage.

  
“Of course I’m proud to call you my wife.”

  
Masterful deflection. He leaned towards her to kiss her cheek. “I’m proud to call you mine,” he added, before his lips touched her. The kiss hid a bite that nearly had her scream aloud. She broke, grabbing his hand just as it cupped her, growing wetter by the second.

  
“Are you alright, Jyn?” Leia looked amused. 

  
“His beard scratched me,” Jyn clutched his hand in her lap. She didn’t trust what sinful things he’d do with it when she let it go. He squeezed back.

 

Jyn sat alone in her room, waiting to breathe. 

She’d prodded at him during dinner. 

And that was only the beginning. 

She unclasped her pearls, slipping them back in their lacquered case. It had such a precise click when it closed. Everything in this house had its proper place, and her room always felt like the box she was stored in, her bed the velvet lining molded to fit her body into it perfectly. She wanted her throat bare for that was going to happen next. 

She dismissed her maid early, who looked happy to get the smoke break, and clamored through the boxes in the back of her closet. Dresses she didn’t choose for herself. 

The one dress she especially had no say in. 

She unboxed it, sleek, seamless silk that hugged her body and pooled in a slick train. The physical embodiment of an oil spill.

She was only supposed to wear it once, but it was the right thing to wear to a consummation.

His knock came after the stillness cycled into a rotation of panic and calm that blended together. The wait vanished from the perspective of hours and shrunk to seconds. 

Panicked, she withdrew to the bathroom extending off the wing of her room. “Come in,” she called, glad to be invisible as he walked in. Her feet were bare under the dress. It felt like dress-up for a second, immature, vulnerable. 

“You didn’t stop by my room before dinner,” he observed, glancing around for her as he walked into the room.

“I saw you before dinner.”

“Well I know how those zippers usually give you such trouble.”

He settled on the bench in front of her dressing table. “Are you hiding behind the curtains? Do I have to find you in your room, as your first rule?”

She shook her head before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “No.”

He sighed, awaiting her real answer, or explanation. He toyed with the boxes on the table, the one of mahogany laquer slick in his hand. He opened it. 

“I heard these were your mother’s pearls.”

She chewed her thumbnail, “Yes.”

“It must have been nice to receive them for our wedding.”

“They were always supposed to be mine. Krennic permitted me to have them on the occasion of our wedding.” 

Cassian raised his eyebrows. “You never sound fond of your gaurdian.”

Jyn made an impassive noise of reply. If he wasn't responsible for her while her father was abroad, she wouldn't be here.

But being here meant she could escape him. 

“Are you going to come out?”

She glanced at her reflection. This was a bad idea, but there was no going back, save for exiting the bathroom naked, which seemed a bit much, even for her. 

Wordlessly, she stepped back into her room, smoothing her hands down the silk as she walked, because she was anxious. 

Cassian stared at her, his head tilted back and brow poised in an examining kind of look. 

“I figured you’d be angry at me about Solo, so I took some care in diffusing you,” she smiled shyly.

He shook his head, eyes sliding up and down her body.

“I can punish you for Solo in my room. But it would be brutish of me to do it here.”

She interlocked her hands behind her neck, wedging her elbows in front of her chin. It was a childlike pose, something endearing in how vulnerable she looked. 

“Even if I want you to?”

Cassian smiled down at her, reaching for her hand to press a kiss to her palm. She dropped her arms, hands on his chest. 

His hands caught the skirts of her dress, lifting them around her knees teasingly. 

“This is possibly the filthiest thing I’ve ever done.”

She bit back a smile. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He stood, re-buttoning his jacket like he needed to greet her formally. “No, you look lovely.” He smiled easily, “Come here.”

He guided her to sit, and he examing some of the jewelry cases in front of him. One case clicked open, and he lifted its contents. 

The diamond-star tiara she wore on their wedding day. His family’s heirloom.

He slid it into her hair, and she did gaze at her reflection for a moment. There was a sad sort of look on her face. His hands fell to her shoulders, thumbs stroking her collarbones. Her head lulled back against his stomach and her eyes fell shut.

“There. Now you’re perfect.”

“I wanted you to take this dress off me, ever since I had to take it off by myself,” she sighed as his hands worked over her shoulders. 

“You never told me you wanted me.”

“I don’t know how to navigate this relationship,” she murmured, opening her eyes to look up at him in the mirror. He nodded, leaning down to kiss her neck. 

“You still haven’t given me any rules for your room. I feel a bit ungainly.”

She laughed breathily, arching her neck for more of that mouth. 

“Keep doing that.”

“Well that’s a good start,” one arm secured snugly around her chest, lifting her higher so he didn’t have to stoop down so much.

She lifted her skirt over her thighs, grabbing his free hand and securing it between her legs. 

“Don’t tease me for so long,” she instructed. 

“Is that another rule?”

_ “Yes.” _

She looked annoyed at him. He smiled, sucking a dark mark under her ear. 

“You  _ like _ teasing.”

His thumb stroked her slit, and her legs fell open as he worked a finger inside her. 

“I do not.” 

She clenched around his finger in a way that said otherwise.

“You do too. And you like teasing me, sneaking into my room with your clothes torn open for me to fix. Or soaking wet, clearly needing discipline.”

“I always wanted to give you the chance to have your way with me when I looked the way I wanted to. I don’t want to present myself to you in a flannel robe,” she growled.

“I was supposed to deduce this from helping you with a zipper?”

“Yes, stop being thick.”

“It’s only been five minutes and I’ve gotten three rules from you.”

He withdrew his hand, and she choked out an indignant noise. He smiled down at her reflection as he stood up straight again, unbuttoning the back of her dress. His hands slid down the front of the bust, busying themselves with her tits. She sagged back against him.

“It’s only fair that I amend my rules to fit you countering them here. This is a dialogue, after all,” she hissed in response as he pinched her nipples, arching against him. “I get to tease you in my room. As much as I want.”

“We’re staying right here tonight.” She bit out, opening one eye to glare at him. 

He smirked. “Who said we weren’t?”

“Trying to trick me into going to your room.”

His circles over her nipples grew slow and lazy. She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes still heart-stoppingly bitter on his face. 

“It only would have worked if you had wanted to go there on your own free will, Jyn.”

She liked the way he said her name, used it often when building intimacy. 

“Stop talking like that,” she ordered, her hands gripping the table in front of her. 

“You like teasing, Jyn,” he guided her chin to the side so he could kiss her lips, “And I’m glad for when I get my hand back between your legs to see how much wetter you’ve gotten for me from the idea of it.”

_ “You’re breaking the rules,” _ she grit out, rising from her seat. Her dress fell back into place. Cassian stepped back, hands held up in surrender. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

She pushed him back to sit on the edge of her bed. She straddled his hips, smirking down at him to tell him she hadn’t minded all that much. He held her steady in his lap, smiling into the lush kiss she gave him anyway. 

“It’s only fair to punish you,” she said, pushing him to lie back. Cassian lay there, almost nervous, as Jyn climbed off of him and knelt on the floor with his legs still hanging off the bed. He felt her hands on his belt, the whisper of it slipping out of the loops, and the zip of his trousers being lowered. He closed his eyes as Jyn freed his cock from its confines and wrapped her lips around the head. He was half-hard already from their playing at her dresser, but glancing down to see her in her wedding dress with a family heirloom on her head, taking him as deep into her throat as he’d go, had him painfully erect in seconds. She licked up the length of him, eyes intent on his, and smiled coyly. He almost came from the sight, but knew he was going to hold back because of just about  _ every item on her body _ that he could not dirty. 

“I thought the rules said no teasing,” he protested. 

“They only apply to you,” she said with a light voice, a demure shrug answering his question of who was in charge here. His cock throbbed painfully as she slipped the head back into her mouth. 

She stood up quickly, leaving him achingly wanting her. He was dazed for a minute. 

“Take my dress off,” she said, smoothing her hands down the skirt. He smiled up at her, sitting up to help her out of it.

“We’re not done with it being on you,” he reminded her, “there’s a few ideas I’ve gotten in the past hour…”

Lifting the skirt and taking her against the wall. Climbing on top of her, skirt yanked up around her waist, with sweet and coaxing words, like he was deflowering her. Kneeling in front of her and tasting her, all hidden under the hemline. 

She straddled his lap again, naked save for a tiara. 

“But right now, I’m going to ride you in this, and only this.”

Her hand wrapped around his, teasing him against her wetness. 

“You’re smug now, but when you’re in my room…”

She laughed.

“I was, just this afternoon.”

“You’re going to regret this, when you come crawling back, across my floor, to beg at my feet.”

She smiled sweetly. "Is that a threat, or a promise?"

She sank down on his cock, shivering at the sensation of it. He had been teasing her for a while, thank god it was worth it. She braced her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to hitch himself back to lay across the bed, closing her eyes as she adjusted to his thickness. 

She wasn’t a virgin, which was an offense that could be punishable in annulment, so she hoped he wouldn’t notice or care. He didn’t seem to mind her experience the minute she rocked her hips over him, rougher than before, and he choked out a moan so sinful she knew she would last long.

“You made me wait for it,” she reminded him.

“I’m learning the error of my ways,” he said dryly. She laughed, bouncing on his lap until he couldn’t control himself anymore. He sat up, mouth latching to her breast. She sighed, satisfied, so pleased from his clever kisses. 

His hands dug into her hips, grinding her against him. It hit all the right spots, and her vision began to white out. 

He had been depriving her all this time, the cad.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah okay it's getting another chapter I know I have a problem GOD.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who added a bunch of plot so now we need more chapters.

She let him sleep in her room, and there was an indulgence to the way she treated him that made him feel not unlike a moderately adored dog being allowed to sleep on the bed during a thunderstorm. The way she curled him in her arms and stroked her fingers in his hair further emphasized this.

He had a spot behind his ear that grew red and feverish when he was nervous or frustrated, and her cool fingers found it, running along the curve of bone and tight skin until he was shivering against her breast. He tried to wriggle free of her grasp, but the sensation of her fingertips was steady and strong, and acknowledging her finding that weakness so quickly would set their marriage off in a very unbalanced way. She chuckled when he couldn’t hide his growing hardness at the tickling sensation, grinding against her leg. She pressed back, suppressing a laugh in the dark, and he pulled the neckline of her slip down until he could mouth at her breasts. She responded with nails dug into the sensitive spot behind his ears, and he nipped the underside of her breast in retaliation, and the sting made him hiss, surprisingly prompting a harsh laugh to toss out of her lips.

He lifted his head, breathless, and tried to find her eyes in the dark.

“How can you expect to be invited back here if you can’t possibly behave?” she asked on the breeze of a whisper, and he laughed, dropping his head back to her chest.

“Good behavior isn’t what made you ask me to stay,” he blew cool air on her bare nipple, and she hissed, arching her back underneath his body, half-on-top of hers.

“What was the rule about being a tease?”

“Banished, _unless_ you like it,” and he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast, sucking obscenely to make her hips flinch under his, “which you do.”

She rolled her hips against nothing until he lifted his body to slot his between her thighs, and she welcomed something to seek friction against.

“Admit it, you could start to like it here.”

His wife went tense under his body, and there was a moment he almost apologized, but this wasn’t a wrong thing to ask when she was in bed with him.

Her head moved against the pillow like she had to think hard about it.

There was a feeling she was there because she had no other options. She was very quiet during their farce of a courtship. Draven told him everything he needed to care about. And Jyn kept it bland, her traits down to the list of accomplishments and feminine performances that the villain of a Jane Austen novel would require of a young lady.

There was a realization now that at that one bizarre tea when he was going to first propose, she talked of nothing but breeds of swans for thirty minutes merely to test or annoy him.

He had failed to find her capable of irony, and he suffered dearly for it ever since.

“Maybe,” she admitted quietly. She could feel his breath on her breastbone.

“I want you...to feel at home here.”

She was perfectly still under him, and with the press of their nakedness and her rigid posture, this was more how he pictured their marriage bed before.

She silenced him with a kiss, which was a dirty move, but he took it knowingly, so he deserved it.

He was supposed to be better than coming undone over feeling her tremble and coo underneath him, so sweetly he was sure she was doing it to get in his head again, but he wasn't. But the stutter of her wry sarcasm when his hand slid between her legs stalled all her plotting against him for a short time, and he'd take that in a partnership. The chance to give, the chance to take. 

"We never discussed your room," she mused against his sweaty skin. "Only threats."

He chuckled darkly, kissing her neck. "I'm going to tie you down."

"That sounds like a threat."

"A promise," he amended, kissing up her neck to the spot under her ear. She had a habit of touching him in places she liked so he would take the hint. He was a smart man, he always did. 

"Too bad we're in my room."

He held her face in gentled hands, kissing richly, unashamed. He liked kissing her. He liked the new steps they were taking together. That they were making the rules up as they went along. 

He nodded sympathetically, rolling his hips in an upward motion that had her gasping, and soon, lost to all thought.

 

_It was impolite to talk about politics over dinner, though her mother once amended that it was alright for a lighthearted joke about it during the fish course. Her father hadn’t been amused._

_“No, Lyra,” he looked across the table at her mother, Jyn’s feet were swinging as she held her breath for the rare moment Galen was ever sharp with her mother. “We don’t talk about it at the table.”_

_“When do we talk about it?” Jyn had jam on her face. Her nurse was already running a wet napkin all over her hands._

_Galen looked at her pointedly. “Hopefully you won’t ever have to worry about that, Stardust.”_

Leia, in unusually bad form, was talking about The Alliance, and the fish course had already been cleared.

Jyn dotted her napkin over her lips, casting a panicked look at her husband. He looked conflicted; because he was supposed to be on her side, and clearly was in disagreement. She looked away from his wavering expression, because if he wasn’t going to do this with her, she’d do it alone.

“I prefer not to discuss politics over dinner,” she smiled, and gestured for more wine to be poured. Leia choked on her words for a moment, turning her focus on Jyn and not the general table, clearly anxious to have not been addressing as rapt an audience to the topic that she thought.

Han chuckled, “I’d prefer to not discuss it at all. You’d be surprised how much the Princess has guilted me into just so I could _avoid_ talking about it.”

Jyn laughed into her glass of champagne, but Leia and Cassian exchanged concerned looks. Her pulse flared. How _cozy_ it must be for the two of them to be in private conversation.

“It’s too early in our marriage to talk politics, especially with Director Krennic’s adopted daughter” he seemed to be apologizing for her, which made her cheeks flame. Her hand fisted around her fork at the word _daughter_ ; the farthest thing from the truth.

He should know better than to skate this fine line. He was her husband, damn it. “I’m sure we have plenty of time to get to that.”

There was something going on over her head. She felt it like a ghost filling the room. As if she had spent all these years as Krennic’s pawn and couldn’t recognize the tone of two people pretending they were the only adults in the room.

She took another sip, staring him down in warning. He shrugged somewhat helplessly, sawing into the lamb on his plate with more focus on it than necessary.

Jyn wet her lips, staring at her plate with a tense jaw. There was an awkward silence. Hostess’s didn’t allow for awkward pauses. Her etiquette tutor had been a cruel Frenchwoman this with sharp nails and a vice grip. Jyn did the gracious thing:

“So, Han, what riches do we have on our shores now that you’ve been away?”

Han grinned, leaning back in his chair. Leia glared sidelong at him. His immunity to praise was non-existent. “I can’t possibly know what you mean.”

She smirked, halting the rise of her fork so the speared meat was up like a warning flare; “Can you at least hint at the vice it’s enabling, I can work backwards from there.”

He leaned forward, amused. “I run a respectable business.”

She smiled pertly. “And I have a wine cellar full of respectable bottles with a falcon stamp.”

At this, he chuckled. “You miss nothing, do you? Can’t hide anything from Cassian’s child-bride.”

“She’s twenty three,” Cassian cut in.

She snickered. “And _very_ adult.”

Jyn’s head bobbed impertinently to punctuate her jab, lifting her glass to her lips yet again. Her smile was frozen, and she felt Cassian tense at the sight of it.

Leia was famously territorial of her smuggler; patient as a saint in most cases until Solo was involved. Jyn shouldn’t be doing this. But Jyn was angry about politics. She was angry about Cassian not backing her up. She was angry that she was following the rules and things were still going wrong.

“All I know about this war is I just want them to stop rationing bacon.”

She had meant it as a lighthearted joke, like her mother had made about the fish course. No one laughed. Han smiled at her anyway.

“I can get you that bacon.”

There was a moment that wasn’t supposed to happen; for all the wrong reasons.

Jyn made a point to not even look at her husband for the rest of the dinner.

 

Leia and Jyn had to play nice in the drawing room, and honestly, Jyn couldn’t bring herself to hate the princess because of how kind she was. She just took her place at the sofa and made nice comments about Jyn’s dress and the style of the room and then remarked on the state of the gardens since her marriage to Cassian. Leia was clearly tactfully doing what she had to do. So was Jyn. So Jyn could not comprehend why she felt so afraid.

She had stood, frozen, in the front hall as they all said goodbyes. Cassian’s hand curled at the small of her back. There was something superficial there, but then the more she thought about it, there were many.

There was the act of intimacy for a public front, covering for a sloppily arranged marriage. But Jyn knew how little she could trust words, and how trust was built through touch, through meaningful looks, through proximity.

Maybe he’d been using touch to use her.

Jyn had her maid unzip her dress and didn’t do it back up for Cassian’s patient hands. There was a knock at her door around midnight, and fear filled her at his obvious anger at her. Their goodbyes to the princess and her smuggler friend were terse, and he just looked at her as she rushed up the stairs without speaking.

She knew it was his turn, his room, and she was for the first time frightened of her husband. She went to bed and ignored the knock.

Something in her expected that privacy wasn’t her own, had never been her own, and he was her husband and by law entitled to enter her room. It was his room. His house.

She hugged her knees, waiting for the door to open. She had rushed this marriage thing because at the time _anything_ was better than her guardian. What had she gotten herself into?

And Cassian was better, but the feeling was new, and that could change during the long time before death. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger.

Jyn’s life had been guided with careful rules. The rules of others and the ones she set for herself. The ones expected her were demanded for her survival. The rules for herself were for her sanity.

The door stayed shut. He never came in anyway, without her permission. Even though he could do whatever he wanted, by law.

There was something to that, something she didn’t want to let herself trust.

 

Cassian answered her knock with a muffled call to come in. He was seated in the same chair as the last time she had been there. A hand was covering his mouth.

“Jyn,” he nodded at her. Walls up. Things were strange and thereby familiar in their strangeness.

“Cassian.”

“You know the rules if you come in.”

She stared back at him, stepped forward, and shut the door.

“Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner?”

She shook her head.

He sighed, leaning forward in his chair, resting his arms against his legs. “You can trust me.”

Her chin was high, her face unreadable.

“Trust goes both ways.”

And he was hiding something.

She saw his adam’s apple bob and knew it instantly. It had something to do with Leia, and probably the Alliance. If he had ties to the alliance, they could both get killed.

She did not sign up for this arrangement if it meant she was going to be assassinated.

“Well then,” he leaned back, proper and withdrawn. “You know the rules. Come here.”

Jyn stepped over to him. She’d take it. She’d take it over any compliance in her own harm, and she’d plot away at her next chance of escape. And should she fail, there was always next time, and the next, and the next.

When she stood at his feet, his hand moved so quickly she didn’t see it. He gently tugged the strap of her slip down her shoulder, baring the skin. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, sucking until she couldn’t help but shiver. She tried to pull away and ground her thoughts, but his arm braced around her back until he gave her a little bite.

And then he pulled away and returned the strap to its rightful place.

She had to kiss him in order to leave. She had entered the room. He had reminded her of the rule. She could have stepped away from the open door, and gone back to her bed.

“Are you uncomfortable doing this?”

“I can stand discomfort,” she looked at him without fear, but there was an airiness in her eyes, hollowed out.

He leaned back, bit his lower lip. There was more he was waiting to say.

Her parents never taught her where she was supposed to talk politics.

Her hands balled into fists.

“You’re going to get us both killed if you keep Alliance members at our table.”

His eyes darkened. “Do you still write to your godfather?”

Her breath hissed out of her nose. No one was supposed to know about that. But his knowledge of that did prove her suspicions were correct; he’d wanted her for ties to Krennic, but not for the reasons she initially thought. She assumed it was a grab for power by osmosis.

“Saw is a dear family friend, and I will not be made guilty for not turning my back on him.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking he be at the table next time.”

Jyn caught his chin in a tight hand, her fingers digging into his cheek in a threat. Her kiss was harsh and rough; teeth gnashing at his mouth wetly. She was ready to leave.

She pulled away just as quickly as he had. He also seemed kind of starry-eyed from the abruptness.  

“I never discuss politics over dinner,” she answered flatly, drawing away in her floaty little slip and leaving him with heavy breaths in the chair.

“That’s a luxury few can afford these days,” he said tersely, and despite their few spats before this; Jyn realised her husband was truly angry with her.  

“What are you going to do, Jyn, when there’s nothing to talk about over dinner but the war we’re currently in? Will you just sit in silence?”

The last letter from Saw had a similar tone.

 

_What will you do, Jyn, when we all have Imperial Flags flying across the continent?_

 

_I won’t look up, Saw. Then I won’t have to see any flag._

 

“I don’t want to care,” her shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to have to care anymore...”

He grabbed her wrist. It was in a loose hand, more to remind her than to keep her anywhere. She cast her eyes distastefully at his hand.

He looked at her like he knew better, which angered her.

“What do you want, Jyn?”

Cassian let her go.

She looked at her hand, which had been freed, and flexed her fingers. Her face was unreadable.

“I want to belong to myself.”

He sobered, glancing down at her feet.

“You have the inheritance,” she swallowed, looking away. Burrowing backwards behind those green eyes. “You have me. It’s law. It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s your house. You can do whatever you want with it. But you can’t convince me, and that’s the one thing I’d like to keep for myself, while you tie the noose around our necks.”

Maybe she was more aware of Draven’s plan than he realized. But in this moment, he had pushed her too hard, and there was no other conclusion than the one she came to.

“I wouldn’t use that power over you-”

She shook her head. “You could if you wanted to. That’s all that matters to me.”

Cassian cleared his throat as she started to walk out of the room.

“Your father has been trying to get word out of the military camp he’s been relocated to. And it’s been traveling to reach Saw Gerrera, with both the Alliance and Empire trying to intercept it.”

She paused.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your father may be trying to help the Alliance.”

Her hands balled in fists.

When she had dinner with her parents, they never spoke of such things. They just sent her to bed telling her everything would be fine. Then they got taken away. And there was nothing left to do but survive. And it had never been talked about why this all happened.

She would not be pushed into answering for the life she’d had. Not when the only answer was for her own survival.

Jyn closed the door behind her.

  



	6. Chapter 6

Her revenge was swift; Leia and Solo’s next visit was a drunken blur of her sequined dress, champagne, and uncomfortable laughter. Han was as much to blame as Jyn, something might have occurred between the couple on the ride to the house, because he was throwing compliments at Jyn and Jyn clawed them open on the table to feast on, empty shells littered and impossible to ignore as she picked them clean. The fires of her temper was lit; Cassian now had to suffer the consequences. 

Cassian suffered in silence, Leia was remarkably poised towards Jyn, which began a cycle of condescension. Jyn knew her behavior was being tolerated for their own gain, which angered her more, which made for another glass. 

Jyn lost herself in a flush, the warmth flooding her face and neck and her head lulling back. This evening was ending early, and she felt like a child again, with the adults in the room determining that she’d had enough and it was time for bed. But she didn’t allow herself the sobriety to put a stop to it.

During goodbyes in the foyer, Leia’s cool hand pressed to hers. 

“Cassian Andor is a good man, and means to help you.”

The whisper was nearly lost in a flutter of blinks, and Jyn pulled away with a face masked to pretend she ignored the attempt to connect. There was something glaringly insulting when another woman tried to inform her of the nature of her own husband. Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Her goodbyes were murmured, slurred.

She pushed him off once the door was closed and the act could end. 

“You need help,” he moved to assist her on the stairs when she slipped on the first step, letting her body rest on the railing. “Jyn, please.”

She shoved him away. 

“I’m fine.”

Her skirt lifted in her hand so her legs would stop tangling. From a few steps down, he pressed a hand to her bare back, splayed out, to steady her when she swayed backwards. 

“You’re unhappy.”

“I had a choice,” she closed her eyes. Her back was rigid, but she didn’t lift herself from his hand. “You, or stuck with Krennic. That wasn’t much of a choice.”

“This is a partnership Jyn, I don’t want you to feel so trapped here…”

“A partnership where I give you what you need, and you barter for me to put up with it.”

He cleared his throat, “The Alliance-”

She cut him off with a stiff voice. 

“I don’t want to hear about The Alliance. I’m intel proccurred. I’m sure you’ve picked up on the code from my letters to Saw and reported back. It’s unfortunate for you that you’re stuck with me forever just to gain so little.”

“You could help end this war. And yet you act like you’re the only one who lost anyone to it.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

She held her skirt in her fist, lifting the glimmering material over her feet, and with a heavy lean on the banister, slid her way to her room. 

But she didn’t stop at her door. She slid into the library. Neutral ground. 

He followed. There were no rules there. 

She was popping open a decanter when he closed the door behind him.

“You worry about my behavior because you care about the princess’s needs before mine.”

The glass of scotch pressed to her collarbone, cradled daringly, as though she played the real winning card in this game. Crystal made the light refract up the length of her neck. 

“I...have...obligations. To the rebellion.”

She nodded, eyes like cracked glass, waiting. The same color of the blue light spun from the angles of the crystal pattern. She was so fragile in that moment, but terrifying. 

“It’s my life on your hands. You’d better know what you’re doing.”

He took a deep breath. “We need to utilize your relationship to Krennic.”

She looked as though she expected as much, but something behind her eyes died.

.

“What is it that you want Krennic to invest in?”

  
Cassian’s hands flinched, a cufflink scattering to the floor. His shoeless wife lounged in his doorway, her face done up for dinner, an aperitif clutched in her hand.   
He didn’t bend to pick it up. He faced her head on. She didn’t step inside the room, and be subjected to his rules. She didn’t allow him into hers, lest he obey hers. 

Jyn had not spoken to him for a matter of days, and this was the first break in her silence.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
She smiled stiffly, taking a well-paced sip. “There’s a reason he’s coming for dinner. I’m assuming it was for a whole world of money to get thrown around. What are you telling him it’s for? Car manufacturing? Arms?” 

She lowered her drink, wagging her finger at him. “He’ll sniff through railroads. The last man who tried to trick him into investing in a Siberian railroad to secretly fund a group of rebels hasn’t been heard of since. So I hope you’ve practiced what you’re going to say very carefully, seeing as you’ve told me none of it.”

  
“You seem to want me to succeed.”

  
She shrugged. “I’m your wife. If he cuts off your head, he’ll probably cut off mine too.”

  
“I don’t need his money, I need his secrets.”

  
Jyn’s smile sharpened. “Don’t you know that it’s easier to make rich people part with their money than their secrets?”

  
“Then I suppose I’ll need your help,” Cassian folded his hands in front of him. The stance was slightly submissive. Jyn smiled darkly in response, her fear only revealed in her hand; clutched white around the glass.

He sat down, tired.

“Come here,” he ordered her gruffly, and she came to his side. He lifted the silky skirt of her dress and pulled the suspender of her stocking, just to snap her back to reality. She sighed when his lips brushed her skin. 

“We never got to my room for a night, properly.”

“That’s because we’re both stubborn.”

She looked down on him through the mirror, and he rested his brow on her silk-covered hipbone. 

She touched his hair warily, then that curve to the back of his ear that got so flushed when he was angry. She set her glass down when he drew her closer, sighing as she rested her hands on his shoulders. 

“What would you have done to me?” she asked, her whisper dry and soft. His hands dug into her waist. 

“You were flirting,” he said, “With Solo. I would have tied you down…”

There was a tremble to her pale arms, and she came closer, standing hovered over his knee. “I was.”

“I know you do it to spite me now, but you liked that I wanted you to…”

“Belong,” she murmured. He nodded, stroking up and down her hips. “ _Tied me down…”_

He nodded, arms encasing her, trying to lower her onto his lap. She relented, looking away, hands on his chest.

“Made you senseless. Until whatever clouds your opinion of me broke through. You want me to take care of you, for a night, and I will. I vowed to do it for a lifetime, though I doubt you’d let me. But give me a night, Jyn, and I’d…”

“No one will take care of me,” she was halfway across the room before he’d realized she’d left his lap. “Save some lies for dinner.”

  
.  
_“You might want to show at least some casual interest in the match he’s made, unless you invited him here to insult him.”_

  
Cassian smiled at her, the glitter of an evening gown, slinky, capable of feeding a village, was nearly blinding his left eye, so his gaze was off to the distance. Jyn was smiling at the Chancellor’s story, nodding as if enraptured. 

  
There was too much money around this table, and he said that as someone who had too much to throw into this ridiculous charade. Draven had told him that unfortunately, a pauper spy would have a much harder time sneaking his way to this table than one with a little social lubrication.  

  
“I’m not exactly tempted to go near you lately,” he found himself murmuring. Jyn hid her reaction in a breathy laugh in a chorus of their company’s, apparently this was a funny story. 

  
“We’re here to get what you want,” she pointed out, turning quickly to him with a perfectly timed action; as if her words were _“Isn’t that funny dear?”_ before turning back to whoever was the focus of conversation. He clenched his fist under the table. She was too good at this. 

  
_“What is it that you want?”_

  
“To close my eyes and have this all be over,” she said, orbited back to his personal space, like a happy young couple. 

And he heard her voice, from the other night;  _ I want to belong to myself.  _

_  
_ He felt it in her words. Jyn Erso just wanted to be free. 

  
“Put your hand on my thigh,” he ducked his head to whisper it in her ear, she obeyed with a squeeze. There was a flush on her face that if he knew any less about her, he’d believe was real. But he had a feeling he knew her better than anyone at this table. Pride, sudden and strange, surged through him. He response to drape his arm over the back of her chair, as it was glamorous to so, proper in it’s casual impropriety. To love each other, at least on the outside. 

He took her hand, not because he had to, but because he felt she genuinely needed something to hold onto.

  
“Does this mean Jyn is finally ready to admit I always knew what was best for her?”

  
When the Director spoke, Cassian saw her color change and she lifted herself away from him as if actually caught instead of trying to be. Krennic had that effect on her. As if Cassian needed another reason to find him odious. 

  
“That must be it,” She said lightly, taking a careful bite of dessert. 

  
Cassian had never seen his wife afraid before. Her dark temper, her drinking- he was slowly understanding that it wasn’t just indifference that colored her apolitical nature.   
It was fear of _him_.

.

The guests left with a pregnant silence, off to some secret location before the night was over, the whole house afraid to be the first to break through it. Even the staff was tiptoeing around as they cleaned up. 

Wordlessly, Cassian took Jyn’s hand, as though they were still being watched, and entered the library together. 

He took the glass out of her hand when she went to the bar by the window. 

“No drinking,” he informed her firmly. She sat obediently on a plush chair, but the aura that Krennic had set upon her didn’t lift. Her eyes were glued in a slant to the floor, unable to be lifted. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“There’s a facility on his island retreat. Scarif. You’ll find everything you need there. I got us the invitation.  _ Salt air is very good for the complexion,”  _ her voice turned prim, an impersonation of herself, like the early days of their marriage, and he realized how much she had peeled back to reveal to only him. 

Cassian set down the empty glass. He sighed. 

“What do you need?”

She closed her eyes, and rested her head on the plush cushion. She was a high-functioning drunk. She’d gotten Krennic to talk under the guise of showing him the gardens, playing house in the life he set up for her. But now that she didn’t have to work, her face was flushed, her eyes were glassy. 

“You can’t give me that.”

She smiled to herself, eyes on the ceiling, shrugging when she told him. 

He tucked his hands in the pockets of his dinner jacket. 

“Saw has one of his former drivers in a bunker somewhere,” he informed her. “And we need Saw to let him help us find what we’re looking for.”

Her fingers fanned across her flushed cheek, nodding.

“And if you…”  He looked down.  “I can leave you in a small apartment in town with enough to live on until you find work...I won’t put you in the city, there’s too much risk of bombing, but now that you’ve helped me, if you want me to...let you go.”

“You stand more of a chance of failure if I don’t go with you.”

“But I won’t make you,” he urged, “Go. Take it.”

“There was a fire at a testing facility,” she hiccuped as she spoke, but he was starting to realize it wasn’t just alcohol making her like this. Tears were pricking her eyes. “Rebellion bombers. No one survived.”

“I didn’t have anything to-”

“They were on your trucks,” she said very quietly, closing her eyes, “You don’t have to listen to a word I say but I ask that you not treat me like I’m stupid.”

“I did not send them there to kill anyone.”

“But Draven did, and you do whatever he tells you.” Jyn stated it all as fact, her eyes narrowed, finally looking at him. “Did you know my father would be in the explosion?”

He picked up the glass he had taken from her and surrendered a drink to her, taking one for himself. 

He had never wanted to kill anyone, but he’d seen so much destruction that he had to be the person to take that burden one; ten lives for a million. It did not make him a happy man.

“I knew I had taken you on as my responsibility. That he had made his choices. And that I would take care of you as a result. Take the money and do whatever you want. You’re free.”

She didn’t take the offered drink. He set it down and focused on his own. 

“There’s only one thing you can give me, Cassian Andor.”

“And what is that?”

He’d do it. He felt numb enough to that he drifted towards the warmth that had been making her happy, even if it only lasted a moment. Her smile.

She gave him the privilege of not hiding the grief on her face, her anger at him, and her fierce determination.

“You’re going to take me to Scarif and give me Krennic’s head on a platter.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Reposting in one place and not interrupted by robotsex. Because apparently I'm that person now.


End file.
